


Folly Made Flesh

by orphan_account



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Thor (Comics), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, D/s, Face-Fucking, Facials, Frottage, Incest, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, agent of asgard!loki, post-young avengers, pre-agent of asgard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:45:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Thor resists. If he looks into Loki's face right now, he knows he'll lose the tenuous grip he has on his self-control. But he can see it in his mind's eye, an image formed with crystal clarity, borne from memories long repressed: green eyes slightly hooded, wet lips slightly parted, Loki leaning in for a kiss." AKA Loki's got a new body that he's looking to break-in and thinks that Thor is just the man for the job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after the events of Young Avengers v2, but presupposes Loki: Agent of Asgard #1. (For those who aren't up to date in the comicsverse, basically: Loki dies and is reincarnated in a child's body with no memory of his former self. His former self, however, had a plan, and takes over Kid!Loki's body. He then gets aged-up by some magic emo kid and is now a young adult with all of his old memories back. And of course, no one knows this, because, hello, it's Loki.) I also assume that Thor and Loki were lovers back when they were young adults on Asgard because, well, that's just pretty much obvious, isn't it? 
> 
> Essentially, this is a fic in which Loki is a pretty young thing who manipulates Thor into "teaching" him about sex. I've tagged the things you can expect to happen in the coming chapters, and will add more as my deviant brain decides it's time to expand upon Loki's education. 
> 
> This is a PWP WIP. Porn will begin in Chapter 2.

The night is dark and wet as Thor moves through the city streets on his way back to the Avengers Tower. He can sense someone following him, but keeps a steady pace, giving no sign he has noticed the quiet footfalls that have dogged his steps for the past four blocks. He reaches for Mjolnir, strung on his belt, and waits for his stalker to make his move.

His stalker's move is fast and silent, and before Thor even realizes it, there is a man at his side, walking so close to him that their shoulders bump as his falls into pace.

"Hello, brother."

Thor stops, his feet heavier than his hammer to those who are unworthy. He is struck dumb and can only stare in disbelief. 

"Surprised to see me?" Loki asks, lips quirked.

"Brother," Thor breathes. He steps back so he can see Loki more clearly, so he can examine his height and build and the planes of his face and compare them against an almost forgotten memory. This is Loki, he realizes, as he has not seen him in centuries. This is the Loki who sparred with him in the practice yards and pulled silly faces at court when the Allfather wasn’t looking. Not the embittered Loki whose face had grown as hard as his heart, not the childish thing he’d found on the streets of Paris. "What has happened to you?"

Loki grins a cocky grins and turns in place. "Why, dear brother, I grew up. Do you like?"

Thor finds himself unable to speak, unable to reconcile the man who stands before him with the four-foot terror he'd last called 'brother.' "But how?"

Loki’s grin turns mysterious. “It’s a complicated, convoluted story, full of intrigue, magic, and multidimensional parasites.” He begins to walk. “Come,” Loki calls over his shoulder, “I’ll spin you a version of it over drinks.”

*

Hours later, they tumble out the a bar, sides aching with laughter. Thor is flushed with drink, but not nearly so much as Loki, who props himself against the brick of the building and groans. “This form has an unacceptably low tolerance for alcohol. I will have to build it up.”

“Aye,” Thor agrees, throwing his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “But you’ve done enough for tonight. Come, lets get you home.”

Though he walks in uneven, staggering steps, Loki is able to steer them through the quiet night. When they finally arrive at Loki’s building, Thor helps him up the stairs and fumbles with the ring of keys that Loki presses into his hand. There are far too many keys to try, and he drops the ring twice in his haste.

“Enough. Out of my way,” Loki groans. He shoves Thor away from the door, and with a wave of his hand, the handle twists.

Loki rushes inside. Thor follows, hearing a door slam on the opposite side of the apartment, followed by the unmistakable sound of retching. He can’t help but smile and think fondly on his own time spent bent over the commode as young warrior-prince. The fleeting sense of sick is a small price to pay for the proper celebration of a glorious battle won. And based on the tale Loki told him that night, it was a glorious battle indeed.

Thor goes into the small kitchen and finds a glass easily enough. He fills it with water and heads towards the doorway through which Loki had disappeared. He enters the bedroom at the same moment Loki emerges from the attached bathroom, a look of abject misery on his face. 

“If you tell anyone of this...” Loki says sourly. But he doesn’t finish his threat, just glowers for a moment before wobbling on his feet. He pulls off his shirt and declares, “I’m going to bed.” 

He toes off his shoes, and when he reaches for his belt, Thor politely averts his eyes. “I’ve brought you this,” Thor says, holding the glass of water out. He hears a zipper and the rustle of clothing falling to the ground. “Drink it and you will feel better.”

“I’m not some innocent maiden,” Loki says as he kicks away his jeans and underwear. He walks over, plucking the glass from Thor’s hand. “I think my virtue can sustain your looking. It’s not like you’ve never seen me before.” 

Thor feels his face begin to heat and keeps himself turned away to hide his blush. A part of him is glad Loki lost his memories. It would not do if he remembered the time, before Loki’s avarice and madness drove them apart, when his brother in such a state of undress was Thor’s favorite sight in all the Nine Realms. 

“Virtue,” Thor says, trying to mask the shakiness of his voice with a laugh. “I don’t think there was ever a time you could be considered virtuous.”

Loki snorts, wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand. He tosses to empty glass on the floor and starts towards the bed, the flaccid cock between his legs swinging as he stumbles. Instinct overtakes sense, and Thor rushes to his brother's side to prevent him from falling.

“Maybe not up here,” Loki continues airily, as though he hadn’t almost brained himself on the nightstand, tapping his temple. “But here?” He gestures to his naked form with a broad sweep of his arm. “As pure as Gefjon herself.” He shakes off Thor’s grip and climbs onto his bed. “Though I never really believed that whole sweet and innocent act of hers. I’m as pure as Gefjon claims to be. Oh man, that would really piss her off to know, wouldn’t it?” He laughs and crawls beneath the covers. "Loki! An unspoiled virgin! The world truly is a mad place; isn’t it, brother?”

Thor presses his lips together to keep himself from answering. He doesn’t want to think about whether Loki speaks truth, or why he burns with jealousy over the thought that he might not be. Who his brother chooses to lie with is none of his concern. Nor should it be. 

Thor pulls up the bedsheets, fighting the impulse to let his hands linger as he tucks them around Loki’s body. He does, however, allow himself one small, innocent indulgence. He smooths down Loki’s hair and brushes his fingertips across his brother’s high cheekbones, warming inside at the way Loki smiles sleepily and presses into the soft touch. “I’m glad you’re back,” Thor whispers.

“‘Course you are,” Loki says through a yawn, his eyelids drooping. He rolls onto his side, giving Thor his back, and mumbles, “S’cause ’m awesome.” 

Thor chuckles and quits Loki’s bedside, walking as quietly as he can across the room. He lingers at the doorway and turns back for one last glimpse at his impossible brother. He’s worried that once he leaves, he’ll realize this was just some mad fever-dream, and Loki hasn’t actually returned to him at all.

“Thor?” comes Loki’s voice, muffled by his pillow. “Will you come back?”

Thor’s heart stings at the fact his brother even had to ask. “As long as you want me there,” he says quietly, “I will be by your side.”

“Good,” Loki sighs, burrowing deeper into his bedding.

Thor smiles faintly. He turns out the light and takes his leave. 

*

He returns in the morning, a bag of takeaway from the diner down the block in his hands. Loki opens the door after the third round of knocking, a furious scowl on his face. "What?" he demands.

Thor lifts the bag in offering. "I come bearing breakfast meats."

Loki's scowl softens, turns contemplative. He peers into the bag, though all that can be seen is a variety of styrofoam boxes. "There better be bacon in there," he says as he walks away.

Thor closes the door behind himself and follows Loki into the kitchenette. "And sausages and ham.” He sets the bag on the counter. Loki has pulled on a pair of loose fitting sleep pants that hang dangerously low on his narrow hips and Thor struggles to not stare at the sparse trail of dark hair that begins below his brother’s navel and disappears beneath the waistband. 

Loki pulls plates from the cupboard, but doesn't speak again until they've settled themselves at Loki's small dining table. "About last night," he says hesitantly. "I did not mean for you to see me like that. It was the first time I'd been to a bar since I acquired this new form, and I might have overdone it a bit. That was not how I imagined our reunion."

Thor laughs. "You spent more than one night holding my hair back for me when I was young. Think nothing of it." 

Loki shifts in his seat and stabs a piece of sausage. "That's not what I was referring to. I meant what happened after."

Thor pushes his plate to the side and leans in. He can tell by Loki's surly expression that his brother is deeply aggrieved. "Speak plainly, then," he says, "for I do not follow. You took sick; I put you to bed. You fell asleep; I left. Did I wrong you in this?"

A moment passes, in which Loki looks thoroughly confused. "You mean, we didn't..." He sits back and shakes his head, laughing. "I must have dreamt it then."

Thor is happy to hear his brother's laugh, though he doesn’t share in the joke. "What did you dream, brother? Did we quarrel?"

Loki's lips press together, suppressing a smirk. "Not a quarrel, per se," he says, "though there was quite a tussle involved." 

His brother has always spoken riddles like this, and Thor has long given up trying to solve them. After a minute, in which Loki stares at him expectantly, Loki finally rolls his eyes and says, quite plainly, "We fucked, Thor. I had that we fucked."

It is good that Thor was not drinking at that moment; he would have no doubt spit his juice into his brother's face, and then Loki would have cause to be truly aggrieved. 

Thor doesn't know what to say. To pretend disgust would hypocrisy. He’d gone home the previous night and been wracked with thoughts of a similar nature, those his thoughts were not mere dreams, but memories. Bittersweet and beautiful memories, but memories better left in the past. To dredge them up was a painful practice, one that left Thor vacillating between guilt and desire.

More than once over the centuries, when trying to locate the cause of his brother’s madness, Thor had returned to those memories and wondered. Had what seemed so innocent and natural in their youth been the root of Loki’s illness? Had their games gone too far? Had Thor’s perverse lust for his brother somehow stained him? Had it stained them both?

"Really?" Loki says, incredulity dripping in his voice. "You've nothing to say to that?"

Thor picks up his juice and takes a long swig, hoping to hide his shame and to buy himself a moment to think. "I say that dreams are just that," he says finally, setting down his glass. "They are dreams and nothing more. Not worthy of a second thought."

Loki watches him, eyes narrowed with suspicion. They both have more than enough experience to know that isn't true. 

Thor pulls his plate back towards himself and avoids his brother’s gaze. He pretends he doesn’t it when his brother whispers, "Though sometimes they're prophetic."

*

Late morning fades to early afternoon and Thor finds himself sitting next to Loki on the couch, his frustration growing as his avatar--a small Italian man in blue overalls and a red hat--careens off the edge of a rainbow road and plummets into space. 

Loki laughs gleefully as his own avatar, dressed identical to Thor's own except in green, crosses the finish line first. 

"I hate these Midgardian games," Thor says, throwing his controller to the floor. "This is not real sport."

Loki’s laughter continues. "You'd think it was if you ever won.”

Thor's breath catches in his throat as Loki reaches over him to collect the fallen controller. Thor seizes in place, acutely aware that any movement on his part would bring him into contact with his brother's naked back. Oh Norms, why hadn’t Loki put on a shirt? 

"One more round," Loki says, straightening his spine and handing the controller back to Thor. "Then we'll do something that pleases you."

Thor's traitorous mind immediately fills with dishonorable thoughts about what he would find pleasing. He squashes them and agrees, "Just one more."

They are halfway through another race, with Thor lagging in final place, when he realizes that Loki is sitting closer to him than he had been before. Their knees are touching, and when Loki's character takes a sharp turn, Loki leans into it--which is to say, he leans into Thor. Thor feels himself go deadly still as his avatar slows to near stop, unable concentrate on anything except the weight of his brother's body pressed again.

Turn complete, Loki sits upright. "Giving up?" he asks, eyes still glued to the screen. “Is your ego really so precious you can’t stand being bested by your baby brother, even in a videogame?”

Thor ignores Loki’s taunts and returns his attention the game. It's a struggle to focus, but he soldiers on, determined to beat at least one of the game's simulated players.

Out of nowhere, Loki asks, "We used to, didn't we?" without looking away from the game. 

Thor is catching up to a monkey on a motorbike; second-to-last place is just within his reach. "Used to what?"

Still, Loki doesn't look at him, but there is a small smirk growing on his face. "We used to fuck." This time, it is not framed as a question. 

Thor's little red man gets hit with a tortoiseshell and spins out of control. The monkey flies past him and crosses the finish line. 

Loki takes the controller from Thor's hand and sets it aside. Thor refuses to take his eyes off the screen, watching as his character cries piteously over its loss. He can feel Loki scooting closer, leaning towards him. There is heat radiating off of his brother’s body, a magnetic pulse urging Thor to turn towards him.

Thor resists. If he looks into Loki's face right now, he knows he'll lose the tenuous grip he has on his self-control. But he can see it in his mind's eye, an image formed with crystal clarity, borne from memories long repressed: green eyes slightly hooded, wet lips slightly parted, Loki leaning in for a kiss. 

But Loki doesn't kiss him, much to Thor’s chagrin and relief. Instead, he leans closer still, until the warmth of his breath is tickling the shell of Thor's ear, and whispers, in a low and throaty voice, "Tell me, brother. How would you like to be pleased?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for graphic description of past-underage in this chapter. Also, facials (but that's less of a warning and more of temptation!)

Thor stands on the other side of the small apartment, heart hammering in his throat. Absently, he reaches for the familiar weight of Mjolnir, only to remember that he has not brought it with him. He is not in battle. 

He forces his voice calm and clear and asks, "What game do you play, brother?"

Loki smirks at him from his place on the couch, lounging comfortably in the space Thor had just fled like a craven. "Mario Kart 64," he answers blithely. "Why? Do you think I'm playing at something else?"

Thor knows better than to respond. In a match of wits, his brother will always win. His best course of action it to say nothing; Loki can't twist words that aren’t spoken.

Loki sighs and stands, walking across the room in slow, measured steps. When he reaches Thor, he has to look up to hold his gaze. Loki is nearly a head shorter and at least five stone lighter, but seems entirely oblivious to this as he presses himself against Thor, lifting himself onto his toes so he can purr, "I was merely offering what you once loved to take," into Thor's ear.

Thor takes a step back, bumping into the table where they breakfasted just hours before, eager to establish some distance between them. If Loki knew the whole of their past, he would not be so quick to offer himself like this. But Thor can't find the words to tell him, can't force himself to admit the truth of it out loud. He only shakes his head and whispers, "Loki, no." 

He looks up just in time to see the good, teasing humor slide from his brother's face, to be replaced by pursed lips and flared nostrils. "Fine," Loki says in clipped tones that are anything but. “Have it your way then.”

There is an angry defiance in Loki's retreat to the bedroom, but Thor knows this is not the end of it. It is unlike his brother to relent so easily. He stands, waiting patiently for Loki's next move, listening to sound of drawers banging and muffled curses coming from the bedroom, until Loki reemerges, dressed in jeans and a tight black t-shirt. "You're not the only person in this realm," Loki says stiffly as he collects a pair of sneakers by the closet from the front door. "Please be gone by the time I return. I will be bringing guests back."

Before Thor can stop himself, he is on the other side of the room, prising Loki's hand away from the door handle. He pushes Loki against the door, steps forward, crowds him in. "Where do you think you're going?" 

There is a small glimmer of victory in Loki's eyes, and it only serves to fuel Thor's anger. He knows he's playing right into Loki's hand, but can't stop himself; the thought that his brother would seek the companionship of someone else, some pithy, anonymous mortal, incenses him.

"There's a bar," Loki answers evenly, giving no indication he's pinned to the door behind him or that Thor’s grip is bruising around his wrist, "just a few blocks south of here. I know it's a bit early, but I figured I'm in for a long night. I've got years of celibacy to make up for, after all."

"No,” Thor growls. It's all he can manage to say as Loki's words tighten around his heart like a vice. He can feel jealous anger burning in his belly and rising in chest.

"No?" Loki echoes blandly, a look of mock confusion twisting his fine features. "I'm afraid that's not really an option, dear brother. I'm not a child. And this new body?" He closes his eyes and leans against the door; his hips thrusting forward as he drags a hand up his torso. "This body yearns."

Thor's hands have moved Loki's hips, though he can't remember whether he put them there to push Loki away or pull him closer. He can feel the softness of Loki's skin beneath his fingertips, the sharp curve of his bones beneath the flesh. Loki moans when Thor tightens his grip.

"This body wants," Loki breathes, rubbing the bulge in the front of his jeans against Thor in a sinuous, sensuous writhe. It’s such a lewd gesture that it should repulse Thor in its transparency, but it steals his breath and quickens his blood instead. "This body wants to be touched,” Loki continues, “to be handled, to be fucked. It wants you, brother, but it will settle for less if you refuse it."

Thor’s willpower is cracking with each roll of Loki's hips, each wet pant of his brother's breath against his skin. The jealous anger burning in his belly is replaced by a want of his own. He cannot stand the thought of his brother with another, and he cannot fight the lust he feels for him either. 

"It cannot be like before," Thor says, as the last broken scraps of his willpower shatter. He slides one hand around the back of Loki's neck, holding him tight. "You do not remember the whole of it, bother, but I was unkind to you in my affections." He rests his forehead against Loki's and promises, more to himself than to anyone else, "It will be different this time."

*

Loki tries to drag them towards the bedroom, but Thor resists. They must move slowly, he insists, as his lips slide over Loki’s in a desperate, heated kiss. “Slow,” Loki pants, his breath hot in Thor’s mouth. “Slow is good too.”

That is how Thor finds himself back on the couch with a disheveled Loki in his lap. It is a shame, Thor thinks as he slides his hands underneath Loki’s t-shirt, that Loki had changed into proper Midgardian clothing. It would be easier to slide those flimsy sleep pants down Loki’s skinny hips than to fumble with the buttons and zips and clinging denim of these jeans, but he manages eventually and is rewarded by a deep groan when he finally gets his hand curled around his brother’s hard cock.

Loki’s bottom lip is between his teeth, his head thrown back and eyes shut tight as he ruts against Thor’s hand. "More," he whines, reaching for the laces of Thor's breeches. "I want to feel you too."

Thor laughs softly, unable to remember why he’d protested in the first place. This is pure Valhalla. He guides his brother's mouth to his own, drowning in the simple, exquisite pleasure of having Loki's lips move against his own, Loki's wet tongue sliding into his mouth. "Slow," he mumbles into Loki's mouth. "We must move slow."

Loki's hands pause for a second, then resume their task, opening the placket of Thor's breeches. "This is me moving slow," he purrs as a hand slips inside.

Thor's head slumps against the back of the couch, pleasure curling around the base of his spine as Loki's clever fingers trace the length of his cock in tender, teasing strokes. 

"Tell me," Loki whispers, leaning forward, trapping both of their hands between their bodies. "Tell me about our first time." 

Hot shame prickles inside of Thor. He would not think of it, not at a time like this. They would make new memories, better memories, together. But Thor's silences does not dissuade his brother. Loki strengthens his grip, twists his hand, makes Thor shudder. "Tell me," he insists, hot and low in Thor's ear. "It's unfair you hold knowledge of our past that I don't."

Thor bites his lip and shakes his head, willing the memory away, but it rises, unbidden, and plays out once again in his mind. 

"Brother." The teasing, pleading tone is gone from Loki's voice. It is a simple command, low and dangerous and queerly sensual. "Tell me."

Thor’s resistance crumbles for the second time that day; he could never deny his brother anything.

"It was the night of my sixteenth name day," he begins, struggling to remember anything beyond the feel of his brother in his lap, "and Father had thrown a feast in my name. Mother forbade you to drink; you were only just fourteen years yourself. But once she retired for the evening, I began to slip you my mead. Everyone was in such good spirits, and I thought it funny to see you in the cups. You ran around the hall, chatting with warriors who could have picked their teeth with you, flirting with maidens that were betrothed to others. Eventually, it became clear you'd had too much to drink. Lady Sif was only moments away from committing treason by striking a prince of Asgard."

A low chuckle rumbles in Loki's chest. "No doubt she deserved whatever I did."

Thor seeks Loki's face, and presses a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth. "She did not," he says, though there is no reproach in his voice. "So, I scooped you up," he continues, hating the heavy weight that settles in his stomach as he approaches the meat of his tale, "and took you back to your chambers. You didn't fight as I'd expected, just sulked angrily in my arms. I tried to put you to bed, but you wouldn't cooperate, refused to change into your nightclothes. I told you if you were going to act like a child, I would treat you like one and dress you myself."

Loki interrupts with another laugh, pressing himself closer, squirming in Thor’s lap. "Tell me, Thor: did you enjoy undressing your little brother?"

Thor open his eyes and looks at him. He studies the glint in Loki's eyes, the quirk of his swollen lips. He leans in, catching the lobe of Loki's ear between his teeth and whispers, "It was my little brother who enjoyed being undressed." He works his hands deeper into Loki's jeans, until he can brush the tips of his fingers across the soft, sparsely-haired skin of his brother’s bollocks. "When I removed your leggings, I found that you were hanging thick and heavy between your legs."

Loki's breath catches. He rocks forward in Thor's lap. "And what did you do?"

"I took you in hand," Thor answers. "I don't know why, perhaps as a joke. But the way you whimpered and grew harder in my palm...I found no humor in it. You tried to hide your face from me as I stroked you, but I wanted to see. Your cheeks were so pink with shame, your lips swollen where you bit them to stifle your moans." Loki lifts off Thor's lap just enough for Thor to drag his jeans down to his thighs. His legs are trapped by the fabric, but his cock is completely free, hard and thick in Thor’s hand, just as it had been that night. "I made you look at me as I tugged you off, and when I leaned in to kiss you, you spent yourself in my hand."

Loki's face is buried in the crook of Thor's neck, one hand clawing at the fabric of his shirt, the other working Thor's cock in quick little pulls. "What then?" he asks, breathless. 

"I lifted my hand, examining the seed that clung to my fingers. You were watching me like a trapped animal, ready to strike. It thrilled me to see you like that." 

Thor lets go of Loki's cock and traces his brother’s bottom lip, eyes narrowing as Loki opens his mouth and accepts Thor's fingers inside. Loki rolls them around on this tongue, closing his lips around them as Thor presses his fingers further into Loki’s mouth, pulls them back, presses them in again.

"You are the same," Thor says quietly, eyes fixed on the sight of his fingers fucking the inside of his brother’s mouth. "You licked my fingers clean that night. I was so far gone with drink and lust for you, I felt mad," Thor continues. "I pushed you to your knees and undid my breeches. I thought you would argue or protest, but you swallowed me down with ease, like you'd done it a million times before, like you were made to do it."

A shudder runs through Loki’s body; his cock twitches, leaking sticky drops of precome onto Thor’s stomach. Thor takes his fingers from Loki's mouth, ignoring his brother’s whine, and wraps his fist around them both, pressing their hardnesses together in his palm. "I told you as much. I told you that you belonged on your knees in front of me, that you had finally found your proper place. You didn't object, only sucked me harder. You let me wrap my fingers through your hair; let me twist it until you were whimpering; let me guide you deeper, until I could feel the back of your throat with my cock. You gagged around me, but I didn't stop. I plundered your mouth, little brother, fucked into it like a willing quim. And when I looked down and saw your hand working yourself between your legs, I laughed." 

Thor has to pause, to take a deep breath. He is ashamed of how he treated his brother that night and many nights after, but his shame does nothing to dampen the arousal he feels in retelling the story now. If anything, it heightens his arousal, sharpens it; his cock is painfully hard in his hand, his bollocks ache with unspilled seed. 

"Don't stop," Loki pants, rocking his hips, sliding the length of his cock against Thor's, the slow drag of hot skin against hot skin making both of them groan. "Tell me, brother,” Loki gasps, “tell me more.”

“I meant to spill inside your mouth,” Thor says, dragging his lips across Loki’s cheek, down his chin, against his neck, anywhere he can think to lay a wet, open-mouthed kiss, to taste Loki's skin, “but then you looked up at me with such spite and desire. You looked beautiful like that, all cold fury and bruised pride.” Thor closes his eyes, bringing the memory to the front of his mind. "No one else deserved to see you like that, to know you like this. I wanted to mark you, to claim you for my own. I wanted to paint you with my seed."

In his arms, Loki quakes, a broken gasp slipping from parted lips as his body tightens and releases; quick bursts of thick come spurt from the tip of his cock, splatter against the tense muscles of his stomach, roll down Thor's hand as Thor continues to stroke them together, Loki's come easing the way.

Thor can barely breathe, his heart is pounding in his throat, his blood pumping in his ears. The entire world has narrowed to this place, this moment; nothing exists except Loki and himself, this small apartment and their heated skin. 

"Do it," Loki says, his voice low and scratchy. He slides out of Thor's grip and onto the floor. Thor wants to cry at the loss, until Loki pushes his legs apart and crawls between his thighs. "Do it," he says again, tipping his head back, closing his eyes, offering himself.

Thor tightens his grip, pumps himself harder. He's beyond thought, beyond rationale. The only thing in his mind is the memory of that night, of Loki on his knees, thick ropes of Thor's come dripping from the sharp planes of his cheekbones, smeared across the pale pink of his swollen lips. 

Thor gasps when his orgasm overtakes him. He leans forward, grabbing the back of Loki's head, pulling him closer so that his face is only centimeters away from Thor's cock as it spits load after roiling load of his seed, tainting the unspoiled beauty of his brother's handsome face with his filth. 

He collapses into the sofa, too overcome to do anything but stare in exhausted amazement as Loki gracefully pulls himself to his feet and climbs back onto Thor's lap. Dark pleasure crawls up his spine when Loki kisses his again. He can taste himself on his brother's lips, can feel his own come smearing across his face as Loki deepens the kiss. He wraps his arms around his brother’s waist, holding him close, never wanting to let him go.

It would be different this time, Thor had sworn to himself. He knows now that it won't be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, this is a PWP WIP. More smut to come!


End file.
